San Pedro Sula lies in a beautiful broad valley sixty miles long and from five to thirty miles in width, which is known as the plain of Sula. It is drained by several rivers, is comparatively low and level, and is one of the richest districts in the entire republic. In spite of its low altitude it is remarkably salubrious, which is due to the constant winds. Banana fields surround it on all sides except one where it nestles close to an imposing mountain. It is the most modern town in Honduras and contains many good frame buildings. There are also a couple of fairly good hotels in this city conducted by Americans, so that an American can stop here under pretty favourable conditions so far as physical comfort is concerned. A number of streams of clear water run through the town which add to its attractiveness and cleanliness. There is, of course, a native quarter much similar to other towns, but the foreign influence has had a good effect even among them.
While in San Pedro an American “gentleman of colour” and a Jamaican negro got into an altercation and the latter was terribly cut by the other, for of course the weapons used were knives. The latter, although seriously cut and unable to walk, was arrested, and the former was tied with ropes and conducted to the jail. It is an almost invariable rule that both parties to an affray are arrested and thrust into prison. They are there held “incommunicado.” This means to be incarcerated seventy-two hours in solitary confinement, without bail, at the end of which time a judicial examination is given. Their theory is that after a man has been kept in solitude for three days with only his own thoughts for company, he is more likely to tell the truth than if he had been in communication with his lawyers, friends and reporters all that time. Witnesses are sometimes held in the same way, so that it is advisable for a stranger to keep away from scenes of trouble or, if it arises in his vicinity, to get out of that neighbourhood as soon as possible.
The railroad runs inland a few miles farther, but San Pedro Sula is generally made the starting point for the capital for it is easier to secure good mules and mozos at this point. It is necessary not only to have those but a certain amount of impedimenta in the shape of hammocks, blankets, etc. must be carried along, and it is even advisable to carry such provisions as will not be affected by the climate. The trail to the capital, Tegucigalpa, is nothing but a mule path, narrow and winding, and for the average traveller it is an eight days’ journey. The road passes through forests which comprise an enchanted wilderness where the white-faced monkeys peer at you from the branches of the trees and gaily-plumed parrots screech as they fly overhead; again it winds among the mountains on a narrow ledge which causes the uninitiated traveller to hold his breath when he gazes at the chasm below; at other times it follows the bed of streams which, during the rainy season, are raging torrents.
There are no hotels and few public inns on the route. It is generally necessary to stop with the natives in the villages, or the public cabildo, which is always at the service of the wayfarer. Hammocks are used for sleeping on account of the insects. As one writer has put this superabundance of insects:—“There will be sometimes as many as a hundred insects under one leaf; and after they have once laid their claws upon you, your life is a mockery, and you feel at night as though you were sleeping in a bed of red pepper.”
Richard Harding Davis has given us an amusing account of his experience one night as follows: “I took an account of the stock before I turned in, and found there were three dogs, eleven cats, seven children, five men, not including five of us, three women, and a dozen chickens, all sleeping, or trying to sleep, in the same room and under the one roof. And when I gave up attempting to sleep and wandered out into the night, I stepped on the pigs, and startled three or four calves that had been sleeping under the porch and that lunged up out of the darkness.”
The only town of any importance that is passed is Comayagua. This was the former capital and at one time the largest city in the country. This city was selected under direct orders of Cortez who directed one of his lieutenants to lay out a capital midway between the two oceans. If a straight line should be drawn across the country, Comayagua would be in the exact centre. Its one time thirty thousand inhabitants are now reduced to seven thousand who sleep and dream away life in the warm sunlight and surrounded by groves of orange trees. It is a dull and desolate place of one-storied buildings and contains a half dozen or more old churches, some of them with roofless walls overgrown with moss and vines that stand as a silent reminder of the religious fervour of the earlier days. There is a fine old cathedral which stands as a good example of the Spanish-Moorish architecture so prevalent in every land colonized by the Spaniards. This, the second city in the republic, is situated in a broad fertile valley which stretches away for miles, while dim, cloud-crowned mountains surround it like grim sentinels. The elevation is less than two thousand feet. It has gradually lost its former prestige since the seat of government was removed to its rival.
Tegucigalpa, the capital since 1880, is situated on a bare, dreary plain and is surrounded by several abrupt hills which guard the sleeping city. It is a city of twelve thousand inhabitants and is a typical Spanish-American town with all the characteristics which have heretofore been described. The houses are usually painted pink, blue, yellow, green, white or some other pronounced colour. The public buildings are not pretentious, although it contains the administration buildings, hospitals, colleges, etc. A clock on the cathedral tower marks the time of which the inhabitants have a supply more than equal to the demand. The town is divided by a small stream which is the public laundry, and this is the only industry that is always running, for women may be seen here from early morning until late at night rubbing and pounding their clothes to a snowy whiteness. Although the hills contained enough water to supply the city in abundance no effort was made until a few years ago to utilize it, and all the water used was carried into the city in jars from the river upon the heads of the women. A reservoir has been constructed in the mountains a few miles away from which water is now brought to the city by a pipe line so that the city is well supplied with this necessity.
Tegucigalpa was founded in 1579 and soon grew to be as large a town as it now is. For venerable antiquity Americans must doff their hats to this old city. While Chicago was yet the site of Indian wigwams and long before our great Eastern metropolis was more than a small town, Tegucigalpa was a noted city. The name of the town comes from two native words—Teguz, meaning a hill, and Galpa, meaning silver; thus it means the “city on the silver hill.” A half-century ago it was perhaps a larger town than it is to-day. There are several public squares of considerable beauty. In Morazan Park, the principal square, there is a fine equestrian statue of General Morazan, the liberator of Central America. For a wonder in a Spanish town there is neither a theatre nor a club, so that the cafés furnish the only social centres. Although hard to believe from its somnolent character, yet Tegucigalpa has been the scene of stirring events and has been a hotbed of revolutions. Only a few years ago Tegucigalpa was besieged for six months, and many buildings show the mark of bullets fired by the revolutionists. In this city the execution of revolutionists has frequently taken place along the walls of one of the churches, and there is a row of bullet holes in the wall just about the height of a man’s chest. A revolutionist meets death bravely and stoically as though he looked forward to that end with pleasure. He is often compelled to dig his own grave which he does with equanimity. He takes the gambler’s chance in a revolution. Success may take him into the presidential chair and failure will probably place him before a squad of soldiers with guns aimed at his heart.
Richard Harding Davis in “Three Gringos in Venezuela and Central America” gives the following instance of the varying fortunes of revolutionists: “I saw an open grave by the roadside which had been dug by the man who was to have occupied it. The man who dug this particular grave had been captured, with two companions, while they were hastening to rejoin their friends of the government party. His companions in misery were faint-hearted creatures, and thought it mattered but little, so long as they had to die, in what fashion they were buried. So they scooped out a few feet of earth with the tools their captors gave them, and stood up in the hollows they had made, and were shot back into them, dead; but the third man declared that he was not going to let his body lie so near the surface of the earth that the mules could kick his bones and the next heavy freshet wash them away. He accordingly dug leisurely and carefully to the depth of six feet, smoothing the sides and sharpening the corners. While he was thus engaged at the bottom of the hole, he heard shots and yells above him, and when he poked his head up over the edge of the grave he saw his own troops running down the mountain-side and his enemies disappearing before them.”
Honduras has perhaps suffered more from revolutionary disturbances than any of the other Central American republics. Bordering as she does on all these states, except Costa Rica, she has not only had to contend with her own troubles but has been the helpless and unwilling battleground for contentions between Nicaragua on the one side and San Salvador or Guatemala on the other. Weaker than any of these her own government has often been dictated by one or more of her more powerful neighbours. With all the machinery of a republic and with an excellent constitution and laws on paper, a change of rulers is usually effected by a revolution as that seems to be the only way the will of the people can be determined. They are sometimes almost bloodless as two armies manœuvre around until one decides it is weaker than the other and takes to flight. Selfish partisanship too often passes for patriotism, and the leaders are only too willing to plunge the country into war to gain the spoils of office for themselves and their followers.